From Beneath A Different Moon
by Gwenhwyfar2
Summary: One moment. That's all it took. A single second, a tiny hiccup in the fabric of the universe and here I am. The Great Detective, and I haven't a clue what's going on, though, my saviour seems to...
1. All I wanted was Breakfast

I love reading all the stories here in Sherlock Holmes but why, in all the stories does he never meet someone a little more like the people of this time? Oh well. I don't own the characters, not even Fat Cat, only the girl, who is me. No flames about this being a Mary Sue, I'm painfully aware of that.  
~*~  
How had he done this to me? He was a guy who had he even been real was from over a hundred years ago. How? That question echos through my mind every time I think of steel gray eyes and a soft touch. How had a man who believed only in science bewitched me so? Me, the girl who made cracks about Surecock Holmes and Squatson. I hated him so much, ever since I was a kid. I idolized the man who I was sure could have stumped him, Jack the Ripper. So what the fuck is wrong with me now? Why now? Why do I feel like I know why he hated women so, why do I feel like even though I got stumped by the easiest riddles do I think myself worthy of being his equal. Could I do what he did? Hell no. So why do I want to try?  
  
I guess it started with a joke, the joke of if I was lucky enough to get to go on an adventure, I'd get sent to his world. How awful for me...  
  
Then I started a story where I did get sent to his world, a 16 year old helping a 30 year old she hated.  
  
Then...I don't know when it happened, I guess when I read Hound of the Baskervilles...I saw a side of him...Watson complained that he didn't trust anyone. And I started feeling like I knew Holmes, REALLY knew him.  
  
How did you do this to me? I would love to know. I believe heavily in magick and arcane things like that and would love to know what spell you used that was so powerful. Is it that I am related to Her, the one woman you loved? Could that be it? Not with my luck...Or maybe her reincarnation, but now I'm getting onto the Inuyasha plot...Or maybe I'm just hopeful.  
  
My first mistake was hating him enough to learn more about him so I could mock him easier. Then I made the mistake of commiserating with him. My problems progressed from there to my current and largest problem.  
  
I am in love with Sherlock Holmes. Head over heals, madly, hoplessly in love with him, all the cliché ways you can think to say someone loves someone else, that's me. I love him so much it hurts. It hurts to know I won't ever meet him, and if I did and I could get to talk to him he would never even care. I'm not smart. I'm a C student at the best of times and my grammar is atrocious, just look at this narration., I'm sure I've made a million mistakes that the grammar check won't check.  
  
I don't even know why I'm trying to write this. I guess I just needed to get these thoughts, these feelings out into the world...  
-Close?-  
--Yes  
-Save?-  
--Yes   
File Save As: Sherlock Thing  
  
The young girl sighed, and dragged her fingers through her long brown hair. Her eyes were so dark brown they looked almost all black, and currently, they were watering with exhaustion.   
  
The red numbers on the digital clock showed it was 2:30 am. She pulled her bra off through one sleeve being her large shirt was loose enough. It had a cartoon monkey's head on it and read, "I fling poo." She pulled off her black bondage pants off and pulled on some sweat pants. Her silver pentacle, the symbol of the five elements and all Magick, was tucked into her shirt and she crawled into her bed. Her room didn't look like the room of an adult living on her own. It looked like a teenager's room. That was her problem. She was a teenager, trying to function alone and as an adult.  
  
Little did she know, that this was the last night she would spend alone in her small home. She was just drifting off to sleep as a heavy weight slammed into her chest. She groaned and managed a pained laugh.  
  
"I love you too Fat Cat." She said to the large gray cat who was currently curling up to sleep on her face. She'd named the cat because he looked like the cat of the same name on Chip and Dale's Rescue Rangers. She was almost 20 and that was still her favorite cartoon.  
  
"Meow." Was all the cat said and that was the end of the conversation, mostly because with an ample cat stretched across her face she could barely breathe, let alone talk.  
  
It was 3:55 am when she finally fell asleep. Eight hours and five minutes until her whole life changed.  
It was 8:55 in the morning and the day was turning into a dreary and dismal England day. The sky was a dull gray, not even steel gray, dove gray or dark gray, just a boring dull gray gray.  
  
A light rain was trickling over all of London. Sherlock didn't know this, he was running through the halls of an old dilapidated warehouse in the commercial district. About 5 yards ahead of him was none other than Professor Moriarty, the Napoleon of Crime. Sherlock pulled out his gun and aimed as he kept running.  
"Meow."   
  
"Meow..."  
  
She rolled over and grunted something that had it not been muffled by what looked to Fat Cat like a stuffed armadillo would have been inappropriate enough to constitute him clawing at her arm. It was just dangling off the bed so near and tempting, but they had a deal...Only if she deserved it...  
  
"Meow!" He was more insistent now. She sneezed, at least, it sounded like a sneeze to him.  
  
"Meow!" He nuzzled her hand and made sure to press his cold nose against her palm.  
  
She rolled over, taking her hand with her.  
  
"MEEEEOOOW!" He bellowed, furious. She sat up, difficult since she was laying on her stomach, and looked around wondering where the man-eating evil spleen was. She was still lost in her dream.  
  
The time was 11 in the morning. One hour to go.  
  
"What?" She asked looking at the cat, her dark hair matted and ruffled.  
  
"Meow." He said falling to the floor and rolling on his back with his legs in the air. He looked at her upside-down.  
  
"What? You'll have to be more clear than that." She said climbing out of bed.  
  
"Meooooow...mrow?" He replied.  
  
She walked barefoot out of her room and to the kitchen where she found an empty cat food dish.  
  
"Shit." She grumbled.  
  
"Mrow?" Fat Cat inquired.  
  
"I'm going to have to go out and find you some food. Can you wait?" She asked Fat Cat turned away, and flicked his tail into the air. She sighed and rolled her eyes. Fifteen minutes later she was in the garage once more thanking god she had sent that short story into a publishing company, even though at the time it was a joke.  
  
That done she climbed into her perfectly kept Lapis Blue Porsche Boxster convertible with gray interior. It was the car of her dreams. She opened the garage door and backed out. Sure it was a car easily able to pull ninety without breaking a sweat but she was terrified of wreaking it since she'd had to work overtime and nights and weekends for two years just to be able to afford the down payment. Trying to pay to get it repaired? She'd have to eat ketchup packets for 20 years instead of actual meals.  
  
30 minutes later she was pulling into the lot of the nearest Pet Store type place that had the type of cat food she and Fat Cat agreed on, it was cheap and he didn't vomit it back up in her bed.   
  
She wondered about what had driven her to type up that document last night as she walked into the store.  
  
A blue and green bird that was squawking far to loud for something the size of a computer mouse attacked the girl, she screamed and fell to the floor hard. Once everything was cleared up and she was leaving the store it was 15 minutes until her life was turned upside-down.  
Sherlock raced up the stairs of the warehouse and across the walkway after his nemesis who had already reached the other side. When the great detective reached the center the walkway gave out beneath him and Holmes started plummeting to the ground far below.  
She drove under the bridge as she had a million times before, but this time something scared her, a human fell from that very bridge and into her lap, his legs over her side of the car and his head cracked against the passenger door painfully but not enough to crack it. She screamed and hit the breaks. Jerking the steering wheel and sending the car into a spin, she screamed again.   
  
When the car stopped spinning and the other people on the rode were staring at her she flashed her cell and they warily drove away. She got out and walked to the side where man's head was. She screamed a third time and didn't stop. She fell into a sitting position and screamed until the man groaned, sat up, looked at her and climbed out of the car, clamping a hand over her mouth.  
  
"Now, could you please explain to me what is going on here? Wasn't I inside a moment ago?" He turned and froze and turned back at her.  
  
"Now, there is a lot for both of us to explain so quid pro quo. First, let's exchange phone numbers so I can call back and get your insurance info if there's something wrong with my car." She said going over to her car and pulling a pen out of the glove compartment.  
  
"What is that?! Where am I? Who are you! And where is that horrible sound coming from?" He asked standing and grabbing her by the shoulders. The hat she'd pulled on since she didn't feel like brushing her hair or touching up it's green streaks fell off when he shook her and her hair tumbled free. He yelled and jumped backwards.  
  
"Jesus...one at a time I said...anyway, that would be a Porsche dumbass, dur. You are just off of I-95 in Virginia, I am the girl you scared the shit out of, Amalphia Terrence. And yes he's creepy but David Bowie isn't that bad." She announced.  
  
"What's wrong with your hair!? What is that necklace, isn't that..." He trailed off.  
  
"God I know the dye job was streaky but my hair isn't that bad, and it's a pentacle." She explained holding it out for him to see. "And do I ever get to know who you are or why you wanted to jump off a bridge?" She asked looking more than a little peeved.  
"Dye job? Pentacle? You're a devil worshipper aren't you. I knew Moriarty was low but to use the zealousness of devil worshippers...." He trailed off as she approached him, furious.  
  
"Look you stupid-head, just because you don't get it don't make assumptions. I'm Wiccan! That means, firstly that I don't believe in the devil, so how can I worship him? He's a Christian icon. Second, as to what I do worship? It's a loving god and goddess and nature. Now, that doesn't mean I make sacrifices, or have mass orgies either! I'm a goddamn vegetarian!  
  
"So if you're going to make assumptions than I'll just go back to my car and go home and you can stay here." She said turning, her brown hair showing it's green streaks in the full light of the sun.  
  
"Please madam, I meant no offense, I merely was uninformed. Please," He said, his gray eyes pleading with her.  
  
"Alright, let's get out of here, I'll give you a ride to the nearest Wendy's and we can discuss our meeting over a meal." She said motioning him to follow. She hoped in and realized he hadn't moved.  
  
"What's wrong?" She asked looking at him.  
  
"I do not understand where I now find myself, these things, these Porsches, how do they run without horses? Why will this Wendy give us a meal?" He asked.  
  
"One, only the cars that look like this are Porsches, they cost more than most people's houses so only a few people have them and I was really stupid to try and afford one with my lifestyle. Second they run with engines, you know? Now get in. I'm hungry." She said.  
  
He didn't move.  
  
"Join the 21st century. Come on!" She insisted again.  
  
"21st century?" He asked, squeaking a little.   
  
"Yeah, you know, the year 2003 and all that stuff." She announced. That was when he collapsed. 


	2. But then again no one asked me

March Hare *hyperventilates for a moment* You mean the great march hare, the one who is writing the Baker Street three reviewed my story. *falls over* Bu-bu-but it's not even all that good! Ahhhgg.   
  
Louise thank you for your kindness I'm glad. I really I am her and I was kind of bored that I was the only one like me who reads Sherlock Holmes. So I decided to do this.  
  
Frenchie Yay! I plan to. And I love that you think it's original  
  
Maeve thank you I am glad you think it's good  
  
Kenta D I can't tell you, you'll find out later.  
  
Oh and one thing, if anyone has any ideas for this story I would love to hear them. I'm kind of going from Idea to idea so if you want faster updates help me think of stuff to write.   
  
~*~  
  
She sighed as she watched him drop. She got out of the car and walked over to him. Standing over him with her hands on her hips.  
  
"Oh yeah, you get to just lay there but what about me? What am I supposed to do. You saw my face and my car. So I can't just leave you here." She ranted, knowing full well he couldn't hear her.  
  
"Alright, I'm not robbing you, I just want to see your wallet so I know if dropping you off at the hospital would put you into killer debut or not." She said kneeling beside him and rummaging through his pockets. She found no wallet, though she did find a small gun, loaded, and some very strange bills that looked almost European. Not that she would know.   
  
She was 20. And poor. She'd worked three jobs over-time, had ramen for every meal all for three years just so she could afford her dream car. And it still left her in crippling debut to own. So that probably made her stupid too.  
  
She sighed turning up nothing of any intrest on the man. No American money even.  
  
"Crap. Okay, so you don't even have ID. Alright. What to do...what to do. Alright remember what you learned, why wouldn;t he have Id?" She asked herself carefully. "Maybe he was mugged. No, there would be signs of a fight. So...maybe he was doing something that, if he were to die he'd want to stay a John Doe. No, that's too CIA FBI kind of thing. Alright, fine buddy. You stay here." She said turning to leave.  
  
Then something he had said struck her. Moriarty. Wasn't that the name...  
  
Maybe it was just her being hopeful, praying all those years, asking all those Tarot Cards and I Ching coins and whatever else she could find, but she loaded him into her car and said to herself, "PLease, please be who i think you are."  
  
~*~  
  
I will be narrating the next part of this because as you all have noticed my roommate is a tad insane and if she told it I am sure it would come out like those trashy romance novels she never reads. And yet she's got one hidden in her bookcase. It's behind her old Literature book and a book on Feng Shui she hasn't opened since it was given to her. Yeah sure she never reads those.  
  
But I digress. That happens when you have the attention span of a small child. But what can I say, I have to, it's my duty to the reader…oh look something shiny.  
  
~*~  
  
She came in first carrying my food. That part I was happy about. I was not, however, happy that after that she went back to her car and dragged up a man that smelled of vanilla and tobacco.   
  
She deposited him on the couch, my couch, and headed to hunt down the first aid kit. I knew it was in her study from when she scratched her leg up better than I could have by placing a round house kick through the window. But on that note, no one asks me, what would I know? I'm just a cat.   
  
She found it, twelve minutes and sixteen bruises later. And then she was bandaging the other human's head and laughing to me that this may be that big adventure she's been wanting since she was ten. When she left the room I decided to help her find out if this was her big chance. I jumped on his chest and started licking his face. That always woke her up.   
  
It didn't work. She came back in then and scooped me up.  
  
"Oy Fat Cat what are you doing?" She asked lifting me up so I could look in her face.  
  
I meowed as pitifully as I could. I was only trying to help. She set me in a nearby chair that she had found on the side of the road and reupholstered with old clothes that didn't fit her anymore. All the stuff in this house had stories like that. Anyway, from there she proceeded to spend the rest of the night taking care of that stranger. What about me you may ask. Well I got to watch all kinds of old movies with her since we had decided that our stranger was going to live on our couch in front of my…ahem…our television.  
  
~*~  
  
Sorry this was a short chapter but if I make them short you get faster updates. And bite me if you don't like the fat cat narrating bit. I liked it and this is my story and no one is forcing you to read. I am forcing you to review. Please? I would really like it and I want to incorporate all your ideas about Holmes and how the story should go… 


	3. How could this happen to me?

Well, here it is, another installment of from beneath another moon. This one's in the POV of Holmes/ I'm sorry if it's a little OOC but I tried my best. So can I get an A for effort?  
  
~*~  
  
There was a light snoring so I assumed that Watson had watched over me. I couldn't quite recall what had transpired but I wasn't dead so if Moriarty was alive I could still find him. I decided that the good doctor needed a rest so I planned to smoke a little before he was forced to wake.  
  
The sight I was met with was nothing that I expected. I was in a small room with cement walls and wooden beams supporting the ceiling. It was cool but a long metal rectangle seemed to be radiating heat. One corner housed what looked to be some strange looking kitchen.  
  
The floor was covered with what looked like a rug but was far too thick and the most offensive color green I had ever seen. A large black box was against a wall and the middle of it was what looked to be an opera, it was Carmen but like not like any version I had ever seen.   
  
"Cold, cold, cold..." I heard a female voice yell as a woman wrapped only in a towel ran through this portion of the house. I had deduced this was the woman whom I thought I had encountered only in a dream. Her hair was wet and I instantly averted my eyes.  
  
"Fat Cat you little bastard! So help me god I skin you alive. Where the hell is my underwear?" (if you don't have a cat like mine you do not understand the joy of finding out your furry companion has raided the laundry for your bras. Don't think me insane, it happens.) She screeched in a most unlady-like manner.  
  
As she exited through another door a furry form crawled out from under the couch with a purple piece of clothing clutched in his mouth and blinking sleep out of his golden eyes. This must be her cat. I leaned over and scooped it up. Closing my eyes for I knew that she would not look any different than the last time I had seen her roughly a minute ago, I called out, "I think I have found the thief."   
  
"Oh you're awake!" She exclaimed. "Hang on a second." She grabbed the cat and I heard her feet retreating.  
  
"Hang on to what?" I asked, but the question was futile. She returned a few moments later in a large shirt and pants.  
  
"Alright, I think you owe me an explanation." She said sitting on a chair near to the couch I was occupying.  
  
"I owe you a good explanation? Good lady it is I who finds myself in YOUR house." I retorted. She grinned and laughed.  
  
"True that. But just one thing, who are you?" She asked staring at me intently with those dark eyes.  
  
"I am Sherlock Holmes and if I recall correctly you are Amanda was it?" I asked.  
  
"Amalphia but close enough." She answered shrugging. Then she froze and she sat looking at me with her mouth hanging open and small squeaks emanating from it.  
  
"Are you alright?" I asked her, worried.  
  
"You-you-you-your really honest to god truly Sherlock Holmes? Like, the famous detective from the 1800's and Watson's friend?" She asked. I forced a smile for her sake. It was quite obvious my identity had been what shook her up.   
  
"Yes miss, though I doubt I am all that well known." I said as calmly as I could. She seemed a little shaken up and was either ready to faint or cry. She surprised me by doing neither, instead, she took a deep breath and began to talk.  
  
"Alright you're about to be more fre-uhm...surprised than me. It's not when or where you think it is. We're in Virginia, in America and uh...how to put this lightly...." She paused to think for a moment and noticed I wasn't paying full attention to her. She turned to look where I was looking and saw that strange black box.  
  
"Shit I left the TV on? Dammit my electricity bill will sky...ro..cket...Oh crap." She sighed again and turned to look back at me. "That's a TV. You've never seen it because it wasn't around when you were. You're roughly a 120 years in the future. And that wasn't the best way to explain that to you but it was the best you're going to get from a person like me." She babbled. Though I didn't hear much of it.   
  
"Madam, tell me have you escaped from a mental institution?" I asked as politely as I could. She snorted.   
  
"Yeah, that coming from the guy who's telling people he's Sherlock Holmes. You want more proof. Alright, one, this." She pulled out a long green rectangle about the length of her thumb and it clicked as she pulled her thumb over a metal part. Fire sprang forth and she grinned at the surprised look that no doubt adorned my face.  
  
"And the TV and this!" She handed me a black rectangle that had a calendar on it and a clock but not like anything I had seen.   
  
It seemed that I was on my greatest adventure yet. I had somehow been transported to another time entirely. And I now found myself in the company of a woman who was as vulgar as a street woman instead of my faithful friend Watson.  
  
~*~  
  
Well there's the fourth chapter. Still haven't a clue what's going to happen...Should have planed this more don't you think? 


	4. Well, it's HBO

Queen of Spain, well thank you for the trust that this will turn out all right. I just hope that it'll eventually work out into a mystery. And I thought the cat narrating was a good idea too. :-D  
  
LA, thanks I will. :-D  
  
Moonrose, thank you, I also think a plot would help. Glad someone else likes Amalphia. I mean I love Sherlock Holmes stuff and I'm like her so I was wondering if I was the only one. Maybe I am but at least I'm welcomed. :)  
  
Kenta Divina yes, I will eventually narrate from the cat's point of view again.  
  
March Hare (gasp) I'll try to make it good and interesting, though I don't know how I'll ever get as good as The Baker Street Three. *twitch* Still can't believe you think it's good *hyperventilates.*  
  
Hermonie Holmes-Thanks I'm glad you like that she's Wiccan since she's going to stay that way. ^_^  
  
Okay, so here's the next chapter. I hope to live up to the standards I seem to have set for myself. And as far as I know the Idea of what Holmes finds on TV is new to just me but if someone else used it I'm really sorry and will give you due credit in the next chapter.  
  
~()~()~  
  
"You are meaning to inform me that I have somehow found myself in not only America, but the year 2000?" He asked, voice a little raised.  
  
"2003 but who's counting." She muttered trying to make tea. She could cook anything, if she had a recipe, but tea didn't come with a recipe. She'd had to have the lady who lived above her drop some through the vent. Just to make the single fussiest man in the world a cup of tea.   
  
"Maybe you could lace it with rat poison." One side of her conscience said.  
  
"Too hard to get, lace it with dishwasher stuff." The "good" side said.   
  
"How have I lived this long?" She asked herself after the brief conversation with her subconscious.   
  
"Well, how did I get here?" he asked gray eyes fixated on the TV, channel surfing to find something good that would explain to him more about this time. She's suggested the History Channel but he didn't seem to be taking her advice.  
  
"How should I know I could do a div-I dunno." She corrected quickly. 'Not a good thing to tell the scientific one from 1887 or whatever that you just happen to do I Ching, Tarot and all that stuff.' She thought to herself.  
  
The response she was expecting from him never came. Instead moaning and grunting and cheesy music filled the room.  
  
"Ack!" She yelled, leaping over a chair and flinging herself at the small TV. She missed and landed into her shag carpet in a belly flop. In one last ditch effort to prevent the great detective( (Patent Pending) from watching porn. It wasn't her fault. She was siphoning the cable of the guy two floors above her.  
  
Anyway, her last ditch effort consisted of flipping over and turning the TV off with her foot. Well, the channel changed, that was good enough.  
  
She looked at Holmes who was sitting there with his eyes wide and mouth hanging open. He looked like he was in shock.  
  
She stood and walked over to pound on his back, hoping to stun him back out of it. He turned on her spluttering and still looking as though...well...as though he was from the 1880's and had never seen porn before.  
  
"Breathe!" She shouted, apparently she had to remind him.  
  
"What was that? What were they DOING?" He asked, his voice cracking. It woke me up and that pissed me off. I hissed at him from on top of the television but he seemed more interested in my human.  
  
"That was porn and I think what they were doing should have been quite obvious." She said, trying her hardest to make a joke. This was defiantly not going to be a good day for her I could already tell. I'd have to remember not to take a shit in her shoe. She didn't need that after the day she had ahead of her.  
  
Sherlock looked back at her after the last comment and it was obvious he had no idea if she was serious or not. I knew she was. She didn't handle responsibility well, that's why I had to take care of her.  
  
"Why would...what...how...can you do that with a banana?" He asked, looking past her. She tried to hold in a laugh but snorted and snickered a little anyway.  
  
"People are a bit...more...open...these days...that...I don't know ask Mr. Johns, he's the one I steal my cable from." She snapped, vexed that she had to explain this to him of all people. It was then that she remembered the tea and ran back to find the bag had exploded in the cup and ruined it. "Goddamn it!" She yelled kicking the nearest thing, which happened to be a wall. "Ow." She whined.  
  
Sherlock dropped his head into his hands as the opening song for "The Odd Couple" lilted out of the television's speakers. If I could laugh, I would have cackled. Cats love Irony even if you people don't know that. 


	5. Plop Plop Fizz Fizz, it's not a relief

*snickers evilly* March Hare, good idea with the internet. Mwa ha ha ha...  
  
Kijava, wow. Really? That's embarrassing...thanks for telling me I'll fix that after I post this chapter. That probably means during History.  
  
Maeve, glad-you-liked-it-I-will-update-soon...  
  
Queen of Spain, don't you just love my evil streak?? So do I.  
  
Marylinusca, sorry it was hard to determine, and it was over the airwaves and right there and porn is disturbing as shit if it's bad so he was pretty disturbed.   
  
LA ~ tv can be evil, I apparently am also evil.  
  
Okay so in this chapter I will be clear to tell who is narrating. It's Amalphia.  
  
~~~  
  
"Okay, Holmes," I snapped in his face and he jerked out of his dream world to focus on me with those steel gray eyes. "Pay attention, bathroom, over there, TV, stay away from channel 69, that's what you defiantly don't want to see. Uhm...the fridge, drink what you want, if it's in the fridge, don't eat it. For food, just open this," I held up a packet of instant Ramen, "Dump it in a pot of boil...here, come on I'll make a batch to show you." I said pulling him into the kitchen.  
  
I'd probably regret it later but I was leaving him alone well I went to work. Work was a couple little jobs that paid well enough to keep me fed. First I'd go to this little New Age shop where I was the only person who could tell people's fortune through I Ching, Tarot, Numerology, and a little bit of Palmastry. Hence why they kept me around even though I rooted through the boxes of new stuff and used my employee discount to the fullest.  
  
Then when that ended at about 5:00, I had dinner, went to my Karate class and shopped for groceries and stuff I needed. Then I would usually stop off at home since my next job was at 10 but tonight I had no desire to see what the Great Detective TM (Patent Pending) had done to my humble abode. So I ran over to the theater where at Ten I'd start working. I took a nap in the back row of the theater that was playing this month's bombing movie. At ten I went to work. I was in charge of giving the RHPS crowd their tickets because I could name all the characters and make the list for the costume show. Hey...I got to see the funkiest movie every made over and over and free food. That ended around midnight.   
  
Lastly I would run over to this Mom and Pop's grocery story and would take boxes off the high shelves they could not reach or lift, and set them on the floor so they could empty them in the morning. That didn't pay well, but they gave me free food at the end of the week so all was well.  
  
When I got home at two I was beat, both from all and knowing at 10 the next morning I'd be off to work once more.  
  
When I got home my house was dark, the TV was glowing with an old loony toons cartoon. Holmes sat on my couch, well...was squatting on my couch, in the clothes I had offered him, bondage pants I'd bought on sale from the big and tall section, and a tee-shirt.  
  
Before him close to my whole stash, (About four cases and the cases are 12 each) of Vanilla coke was scattered before him in the form of empty and crushed cans. He was currently watching the Loony Toons and cackling, while singing, "Plop plop fizz fizz oh what a relief it is." I doubt anyone will believe me on this but I swear that it was true.   
  
"You know? I think I could get to like this Vanilla coke drink. It is not like much I have tried but it gives much the same buzz of energy." He said, all the words tumbling out at once.  
  
"I hate my life." I muttered. "Okay lets see...how to get him to sleep..." I wondered idly to myself. I could do a number of things, none that wouldn't involve hurting him though so that wouldn't work.   
  
I sighed and sat down next to him and grabbed the controller. I channel surfed, having to listen to every crappy ad-line any company had ever come up with. That was care of Holmes who seemed to have memorized them. All of them.  
  
He fell asleep, or passed out, I wasn't sure, soon enough, probably from OD'ing on caffeine. I sighed, pushed him into a reclining position covered him with a blanket, shoved a pillow under his head and clicked off the TV.   
  
Then, wide awake after seeing a mini marathon of Vincent Price Movies, I set to work picking up all the cans. He hadn't crushed them so I had a clever idea of what to do with them. I cleaned them out, grabbed a bottle of rubber cement and set to work. Around 9:30 am I was done and finally tired. Course, I had to leave for work in 30 minutes. What I had built was a tower of coke in the center of my living room. I'd gone through the building's recycling bin and got even more cans and now it was incapable of being moved.  
  
I woke Sherlock and sprayed him with air freshener. Then I dragged him behind me to work. I was not stupid enough to leave him home alone twice. I was stupid enough to bring him to work with me.  
  
He spent the time at the New Age shop pissed off and moping. He was not happy and was showing it.  
  
Then, when I headed to dinner he cheered up. Who knew that he would fall in love with Pizza, then again everyone loves pizza.  
  
When I walked into Karate it was without thinking, this was my family, all the guys were like brothers and all the girls like sisters and mothers. So when I walked it everyone wanted to know who this cute guy behind me was.  
  
"This is my...friend..." I started,  
  
"Sher-" He spoke reaching out to shake Bob's hand. I discreetly stepped on his foot and grinned.  
  
"Sherman Smith." I said. "Everyone calls him Holmes though since he's like a real life Sherlock Holmes." I explained quickly. Bob and the others made him feel right at home as I took the class and when it was time to go we hung out longer while they tried to talk him into taking lessons.  
  
We ended up leaving later than planned and headed were late to the theater. I forced the manager to keep Holmes, my idiot savant brother in the back room because, and this part was true, he would freak if he saw the RHPS crowd. He behaved for the most part, other than kicking my boss's ass at poker and winning a 120 dollars and a month of free movie passes.  
  
On our way home Holmes started asking the serious questions.   
  
"How are you going to get me home?" He asked. I almost hit a tree.  
  
"Me? Why should I do it? You're the one who got yourself stuck her, shouldn't you find your own way home?" I asked kind of pissed that I had not gotten to go to the mall and pick up the newest PS2 game I'd finally been able to afford.   
  
"You are the one who took me in and I have found in my years with Watson that it can be nice to have an assistant." He said smiling. It was like he was trying to compliment me and he was really just that bad at it.  
  
"I'm not your assistant buddy, had my car not been there, you'd have died. I saved your ass and if you knew how I worked you wouldn't want my help." I snapped. Yeah Sherlock sitting still for a Tarot reading. Ha...ha...  
  
"You do not know that. I have requested you help me. Please." He said it like it hurt him to ask.  
  
"Well since you're so desperate. On one condition." I said pulling into my parking lot. He looked at me shrewdly and I had some idea of how my boss at the movie theater felt.  
  
"What condition would that be?" He asked.  
  
"I get to help with EVERYTHING. If it gets dangerous I want to come, no matter how bad, it is I'm there and know exactly what you know. I'm an equal partner, not just an assistant." I said staring intently at him.  
  
I learned poker from a business executive who could make grown men balk with a mere glare. I had a desire to say "I see your shwartz is as big as My Shwartz." I didn't. After a moment he blinked and looked away towards my building.  
  
"Only if the first time it gets dangerous you don't do more harm than good by screaming and acting as a woman normally would." I shook his hand and giggled happily. Yes...I giggled.  
  
"YAY!" And the deal that would change my life was made. I didn't know at that time it would alter my world as much as it would.   
  
~~~  
  
Okay there you go, sorry it's short but I wanted to finish before history was over so I kept it three and a fourth pages. Still have no plot, would love help. ^_^ 


	6. Enter the Plot

Alright, people are complaining it's too silly so I took the first idea for a plot I could. Let's see if this works out eh? And I know this will sound trite at first but please please please trust me that it really is an original plot and will make you go Huh?  
  
~  
  
He'd been here almost two weeks, I'd convinced him to let me read his tarot cards but being he was mocking me the whole time it didn't work. So what if I really do believe the cards were pissed at him for this and gave him a bad reading.   
  
Anyway, he'd dragged me back to that bridge several times trying to find something. I pointed out that the street cleaner had probably come and washed any evidence there might have been away.   
  
We were heading back to my house from one such excursion, walking because it'd been too close to my house to justify using up the gas. Anyway I thought of how maybe we should just give up and get some phoney papers and let him live here for the rest of eternity, but the memories that brought up forced me to let go of that idea and be pissed for the rest of the evening.  
  
We walked into my building and the Super came up to me.  
  
"Hey Malph! Your father came for a visit and I told him you'd be back soon so I let him into your apartment." He said. I blanched and wanted to turn around and run. Damn stupid pride. I hate it sometimes I really do.  
  
I walked down the steps and opened my door, my eyes instantly focusing on the face of the biggest asshole on the planet.  
  
"Robert." I said with venom dripping from the single word. At the same time, with just as much hatred Holmes addressed Robert's friend.  
  
"Moriarty." He leaned over and his lips brushed my ear as he talked, "Go to your room and get anything important you might need and some clothes for us both." He said and then pulling away, "Honey," He said in a Brooklyn accent, "Could you get us some drinks?" I was actually confused but considering the seriousness in his voice I just smiled and said,  
  
"Sure baby." And kissed his cheek as I walked to the kitchen, behind which was my room.  
  
I heard the soft strains of their conversation and wondered who Robert's friend could be that had scared Holmes so badly. Then I realized it. Hey, I said I was smart, not fast. Moriarty, Holmes's Lex Luthor. If all Holmes and Superman fans will excuse the analogy.   
  
Wow, shit, how had I not noticed that. Oh yeah...cause of that feather soft, almost a kiss but not really because our lives depended on it and he was just whispering in my ear thing. It wasn't a kiss, I knew that, but it might as well have been the way it effected me. I shoved the last of my things into my duffle bag and tied it around my shoulders. Then I shoved a butterfly knife (Given to my by my grandfather) into a pocket, just in case, and headed out, grabbing three cans of soda on the way.  
  
"Sorry it took so long, I had to get the laundry." I said motioning to my dufflebag. Robert sighed.  
  
"You could afford your own washer and dryer, just come back home, the staff will take care of it all." He said.  
  
"You kicked ME out remember...Dad?" Holmes started at that one and I wanted to yell at him that that was no more interesting than that fact that...hello? Moriarty was standing in my living room.  
  
"Yes and it was a mistake on my part. I never should have. Please Ama, please forgive me and come home." He said holding out his hand.  
  
"Who is the suit?" I asked motioning to the Armani clad evil super villain.  
  
"This is an old friend, he's been helping me get my life on track again. He's really very intelligent and I know how much you loved Sherlock Holmes novels. He says he could teach you the techniques." Robert said. More empty promises. Yeah sure he could Robert, that Mor-freaking-arty!  
  
"Well, where did you meet him?" I asked keeping my eyes on Robert, not letting Moriarty know I knew who he was. I must admit I was really excited. This was just like an action movie or something. Only...I didn't have a 9mm with an infinite clip that would have one bullet left when it was just me and the bad guy...  
  
Sorry I have an obsession with action movies...  
  
"I meet him in that bar I love, you know the one. He came over and we started talking about you." Robert gushed. Good lord, how had I survived 16 years with that man?  
  
I saw Fat Cat curl around Holmes's feet and we shared a silent glance that said it all. He scooped the feline into his arms and smiled placidly.  
  
"We have some errands to run and just needed to pick up the laundry and Fat Cat for his vet appointment so why don't you two wait here while we take care of that. Make yourselves at home." I said with a false grin and the perkiness of a fifties house wife.  
  
"Oh honey, the help can take care of that once you come home." Robert said grabbing my arm. I wrenched it out of his grasp, slapped him and bolted, following Holmes. We piled into my car, not having time to put anything in the trunk and I took of out of the garage pushing 90 as I hit the open road.  
  
It was times like that I was grateful I had an obsession with sports cars. And it would not be the first time that a V8 would save my life.  
  
"Alright, want to tell me what that was?" We both asked at once.  
  
"You're the one who didn't tell me that you came here with the Kingpin of 1887!" I shouted. Holmes ignored the comment.  
  
"You didn't tell me your father was a business man." I wanted to reply with something juvinile like, you never asked. Instead,  
  
"He's not. He disowned me when I was 16 and I've lived alone since. He's not been my father for a long time." I snapped.  
  
"What was he doing with Moriarty?" Holmes asked. Oh yeah, like I would know. Wait...I did know...Hey how about that?  
  
"I guess...well, he's really uh...gullible and if Moriarty could tell enough about him he'd proably hire the bastard on the spot to handle telling him about everyone who walked into his office. Did I mention Robert is paranoid? Knowing everything about everyone would comfort him." I explained, assuming that was the right answer. It probably was, knowing Robert.  
  
"Why did your father disown you?" He asked. Like that was any of his business.  
  
"Because I wasn't the perfect daughter. So he got mad and said he would. So I actually did leave and then made sure he couldn't find me, but I guess I kind of screwed that up." I muttered looking straight ahead at the road. "But I'm not going back, I can't even believe I survived 16 years with him. I can't do it anymore." I insisted.   
  
It never occurred to me that Robert had said old friend and sure it should have but then again I was too stunned about the whole, my father hunted my ass down and all that bullshit.  
  
Anyway, I kept my foot on the pedal and until Holmes actually reached over and grabbed my wrist the car was going at least 80 in a 45 zone. I screeched on the breaks and took several deep breaths. I hadn't realized how much seeing Robert again would effect me and 16 years of repressed emotions and memories were all broiling forth and bubbling over and I was just reliving all of them over and over again.  
  
We sat there, off the side of some major road in total silence. Thunder rumbled in the distance and I couldn't help but think how trite it was that it was going to start raining.  
  
"There's a motel not far from here. We can stay there for the night and then in the morning I have some debts (Spelled it right Kirjava) I can call in for a place to stay." I managed. Holmes was clinging to a very pissed of Fat Cat who had scratched up the detective's arms. I could see at least one track, fading as testimony to the old proverb 'Old habits die hard.'   
  
I took my cat and closed the roof of the car and then the windows. Then I let him down near Sherlock's feet. We drove a few miles until I saw the familiar flickering neon sign, Motel, Vacancies, Cable TV. I parked and grabbed Fat Cat walking inside and telling Holmes to get my bag.   
  
"No Pets." The guy behind the counter said. I pulled out something that had literally not been touched in over four years, the Credit Card Robert had given me. I hadn't touched it since he'd presented me with it.  
  
"Alright, room 12." He said grinning. I knew he was going to over-charge me but hey, it was Robert's money and it was his fault I was here.  
  
We entered the room just as a crash of thunder struck behind us. Lightning filled the room and I groaned. One bed. This would be awkward since for once the floor looked less clean than the bed.*  
  
~~  
  
If anyone doesn't get this people once did a study of a fancy hotel room and in the bed alone that found over 400 different people's DNA. So there's that disgusting fact of the day. 


End file.
